


Never Give In

by thegalrahobbitofplantetgalilfrey



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Gen, Keith's the leader, Pain, Set season 3, Shiro's gone, Torture, body parts getting severed, don't worry about it it'll be fine
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:07:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21693529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegalrahobbitofplantetgalilfrey/pseuds/thegalrahobbitofplantetgalilfrey
Summary: Good leaders make sure everyone else gets out first.Good black paladins never give in.
Comments: 11
Kudos: 35





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaaaaaaand I've gotten distracted again, whoops.

Keith was somewhere dark. Somewhere kind of chilly—oh, that was because his armor was gone, and he was left in his flight suit. He frowned, his head throbbing. Where…

He tried to move, but something on his wrists held him back. He frowned again, turning his head to the side to take a look, despite the dark. He could hear something clanking as he did, and felt something cold and heavy around his neck, like a giant necklace, one of the ones on ancient Egyptian tomb art.

Then it hit him. The pressure on his wrist was a pair of cuffs. The pressure on his throat was some kind of shackle. The battle. The cliff. The malfunctioning jetpack. The broken zipline. _Quiznek_.

He was in an awkward position, half-crouching, kept in place by the cuffs holding him to the wall. His cuffs fell from the wall with a _click_ , locking to each other in front of him, and he tried to stand up.

Only for the pressure around his neck to tighten, making him gag. He lowered himself back down, trying to sit. The pressure stops him there, too. He didn’t have a choice. He had to stay in that awkward half-standing, half-sitting position.

 _Bastards_.

He remembered something like this. In history class, in Elizabethan England. When all of that inquisition kind of stuff was going on. There’d been a punishment like this with a cell too short to stand up in, and too narrow to sit down in. Most people went insane.

 _Well, great. I’ve got insanity to look forward to, at least_.

At least his brain was kind of functioning. Well enough to remember history class at least.

 _I never could remember this stuff in school. Ha, ha, maybe my teachers should have locked me in a cell with nothing to do except learn history facts. I bet I would have been a **great** history student then_.

The thought of what would have happened if he _had_ been a good student shut Keith’s brain up fast. He wouldn’t have been a member of Voltron, then. Of course, he wouldn’t be locked up here, wherever that might be, either.

Where _was_ he, anyway?! His jetpack had gone out, and he’d _just_ missed Allura’s outstretched hand by _millimeters_. He frowned. They’d trained for eventualities like that, where jetpacks malfunctioned in bad spots. He _knew_ that they had. It had led to a lot of painful bruises that he was relatively certain had happened because Lance had purposefully let him fall. But all of them knew what to do in that situation. They should have been able to jump and catch him. Why hadn’t they?

Oh. Yeah. The shots. They’d been unable to move. They’d been pinned down. Had they gotten away? Their shields should have worked, he told himself, they should have been able to get away just fine. So _what had happened to them_? Were they captive, too? Who had him, anyway? The Galra? Unfriendly locals?

The door creaked open, and a sudden light blinded Keith. He blinked, trying to banish the spots. _Finally_. It was _about time_ he could at least have _some_ idea who was—

Oh. Oh, that was _bad_. There were two Galra in his cell, but that wasn’t the problem. The problem was the view out the window directly across the hallway. There were an awful lot of stars in it.

He was in space. Who knew where, they could have made a jump, they could be anywhere in the galaxy by now.

“Where’s my armor?” The question popped out of his mouth before he could think about it. It was kind of a dumb line—not really the heroic, rebellious quip that he’d wanted to leave as his first impression, but it was important. His armor had a tracker on it, and the others could find him if it was on this ship.

One of the Galra sneered. “On an escape pod leading your stupid rebellion on a merry wild goose chase.”

Right. Rescue wasn’t an option, then. Waiting this out wasn’t a possibility. Escape, then. The instant the guards opened up the shackle around Keith’s neck, he bolted for it, ramming his shoulder into the guard on the left’s stomach and pushing him over, bolting for the door.

The cuffs around his wrists were dragged to the floor, nearly flipping him and throwing him on his back as his momentum carried him forward.

 _Oh, **come on**_!

The guard not gasping for air grabbed him by the collar and turned off the cuffs, attempting to drag him to his feet.

Keith obstinately sat down.

“ _Move it_.”

“Nah.”

That was also not a very heroic thing to say. But Keith was never as obsessed with his image as Lance. And besides. Being a discipline case was kind of his _thing_. It wasn’t like the Galra couldn’t just drag him anyway. He just wasn’t going to make it any easier for her.

She _did_ start to drag him, and part of Keith wanted to stand up because he felt like a kid, but the other part was too stubborn to do what this Galra wanted. He dug his feet into the ground. It didn’t halt their progress much, but the guard sighed and let him go. Then she pressed a button on a tiny remote, and Keith’s arms were jerked up to the ceiling so fast they were nearly yanked out of their sockets. Almost as fast, the cuffs fell from the ceiling, and the guard grabbed Keith’s arm as he fell and pulled, forcing him to stumble along after her.

“ _Idiot_ ,” she swore, “Just _cooperate_.”

Keith was going to answer, probably with some suitably good comeback like “no” but before he could, she pushed him into a room, where firmer, no-nonsense robot sentries took hold of his arms. There was a Galra dressed in a commander’s uniform.

“Black paladin.”

That was so _weird_ , being called the black paladin, and Keith’s first instinct was to tell him that he was the _red_ paladin, and Shiro—

Keith choked up. Shiro. Gone.

“Call your lion here.”

_Oh, yeah, like **that** was ever going to happen._

_Could he even do that? Red had always come when he was in danger, but would the black lion? None of the other lions seemed to rescue their paladins_.

“You don’t want me to do that,” Keith said instead, “It would probably end with your whole ship in ruins.”

The commander’s lips twitched, like he was about to smile. “Really? Then why haven’t you done it yet?”

 _Quiznek_. Keith wasn’t sure he’d ever had a bluff called so fast. The cuffs made sense, now. This wasn’t just a normal Galra commander. This was one of the commanders who made it through on strategy, not brute strength.

The commander leaned forward. “I’m waiting.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay, I’m secretly in love with that guard who dragged me in here and I don’t want her to get hurt, you caught me.”

“You’re not the blue—or is he the red now—paladin. Don’t pretend to be. Call your lion here.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No,” Keith repeated, “It’s never going to happen. I’d rather die!” And he knew, with absolute certainty that he would. Voltron had been safe for ten-thousand years. He wasn’t going to mess that up. They could find another paladin—heck, he himself was already a replacement. They were already playing musical lions, why not keep going?

The commander laughed. “Die? Why would you do that? I have no intention of killing you. Even without your lion, you’re worth quite a fortune alive.” He stopped laughing to smile, his pointed canines gleaming even in the low light. “Of course, you _are_ worth more with your lion. And none of the bounties said _anything_ about keeping you in one piece.”

A thrill of fear shot through Keith, but he managed to keep his face neutral. He’d faced the Trials of Marmora. He could take whatever this commander could dish out. His cuffs dragged him to the floor, forcing him to look up if he wants to look the commander in the eye. He stared at the ground instead, glaring hard.

“Look at me.”

No _way_. Keith didn’t look up at _anyone_. Except Lance and Hunk, but that was _only_ because they were taller than him and he needed to look them in the eye. _Not_ because they wanted him to feel small and pathetic.

A hand grabbed his chin and forced his face up. “ _Look at me_.”

Keith wrenched his head away and bit down on the commander’s hand, _hard_. The commander shrieked, and something hard hit Keith in the head, forcing him to let go. His head throbbed and spun, like it had when he’d hit it falling off that cliff (how high up had he fallen from?) when his jetpack had failed.

“Your stupid paladins _left_ you,” the commander snarled, “They ran to save their own miserable hides and left you collapsed in the ravine where we found you! They’re _not coming for you_! They left you! Your rebellion here means _nothing_! Just join with us! Call your lion and swear fealty to the Empire!”

They’d gotten away, then. Good. Keith decided it was time to have a little bit of fun. He looked up at the commander, feigning confusion.

“Um… I’m sorry? Who are you?”

“I am Commander Zyrock, scourge of the Selendium system!”

Keith nodded pleasantly. “Okay. Do you know who I am? Or where we are?”

Zyrock faltered. “I—what?”

Keith lifted his shoulders in an embarrassed kind of shrug. “I—uh—I’m not quite sure who I am. Or why I’m stuck to the floor, do you know why I’m stuck to the floor?”

Zyrock looked to his sentries. “What is he doing?!”

“The blow to his head appears to have given him some form of memory loss,” the sentry said in its metallic voice, “likely retrograde amnesia.”

Keith couldn’t help it. He sniggered. Zyrock’s face turned a deep purple, and the heel of his palm darted out, lightning fast, and there was a _crunch_. Keith felt something warm and sticky dripping down his face, and then pain erupted from his nose, and stars danced in front of his eyes.

 _Oh. He broke my nose_.

Keith tried to reach up and wipe away the blood, but his hands were still firmly attached to the ground.

“Do you think this is _funny_?” Zyrock hissed, his face still that shade of deep purple, “Do you think it’s a _game_?!”

Keith muttered something along the lines of “Yeah, kinda.”

Wrong answer. Keith was relatively certain that there was no other answer that would get Zyrock this incensed. The commander slapped him full across the face, and Keith toppled sideways, pain erupting on the left side of his face and joining the aching of his nose. He could feel his face start to swell.

 _Ah. That’s not good_.

It was weird, how calm his brain was, even when his face felt like a slap of raw meat that was being ground up for hamburgers.

“Summon your lion.”

“No—way!”

Zyrock snapped his fingers, and a sentry snapped a pair of handcuffs on Keith’s ankles. They locked on the floor, and suddenly Keith was flat on his back.

 _What is that fo_ —

The handcuffs inched towards each other, arcing Keith’s back.

 _Okay, okay, don’t panic, I’m flexible, this is going to be_ —

The handcuffs went too far, and little shocks of pain ran up and down Keith’s spine. Then it went even farther and Keith groaned, his whole body trembling as the handcuffs stayed there, holding him balanced, on the verge of snapping his spine in two.

“Come on, black paladin. How hard can it be? Summon your lion.”

“I—can’t,” Keith spat, barely able to get the words out.

The handcuffs snapped apart, dropping Keith. He panted, curling forward to get rid of that _awful_ sensation of his spine bending the wrong way. Zyrock stepped back, his face calculating.

“You… can’t. Not that you won’t. That you _can’t_. So. It’s not a matter of stubborn pride. It’s that you actually are unable to call your lion to you.”

Keith glared at the floor.

“Well. I see, then. It’s useless to try to force you to bring the lion here.” Zyrock shook his head. “That _is_ a shame. I _did_ want to collect as much of a reward as possible. Dear, dear, dear. What else can I do but turn you right in?” Zyrock shook his head slowly, then stopped, grinning that sharp-toothed smile at Keith. “Ah, I know. If I can’t make _you_ bring the _lion_ , I’ll have to make the _lion_ bring _itself_!”


	2. Chapter 2

“I saw, you know.”

Keith glared at Zyrock, who had chained him to the wall again.

“I saw the whole thing.” Zyrock slammed a fist into Keith’s stomach. All of Keith’s breath went out with a _whoosh_ , and he gasped for air. “You really _are_ the worst excuse for a Galra, aren’t you? I saw you insist that the rest of your team go across the canyon zipline first. You look out for number one! You don’t let your underlings go before you! You _certainly_ don’t let the heaviest one go before you! You had to have known that he’d weaken the line! You don’t put your _underlings_ before _yourself_ , black paladin!”

“They’re… not… my underlings,” Keith gasped, so faintly that Zyrock had to lean in to hear. “They’re… my friends.”

“Then you’re even weaker than I thought.” Zyrock snapped his fingers, and the bindings on his ankles shifted onto one leg. One of the cuffs latched onto his ankle and started to pull towards the ceiling, while the other latched just below his knee, keeping it attached to the wall. “Is that lion coming?”

“Yes,” Keith lied.

“It needs to come faster.”

The binding yanked fast and hard, and a blinding rush of pain rushed up from Keith’s leg. His vision whited out, and he could hear someone screaming. Who was screaming? _Oh, that’s me_ , he thoughts somewhere in the back of his mind, but the pain in his leg was too big for any other thoughts.

Keith managed to look down, whimpering like a child, and saw white poking out of his skin. He threw up.

“Disgusting.”

Keith didn’t answer, just gave a guttural moan.

“Is your lion coming? No lies, this time.”

“N-no,” Keith whispered, his head drooping down to his chest.

“Hm.”

Zyrock snapped his fingers again, and the guards from before marched in, grabbing Keith by the arms and locking him back in his cell. Keith’s vision started going spotty, and he slumped forward, only for the shackle around his throat to choke him. He stood on his one good leg, still in that half-up, half-down position, his leg cramping, but every time he started to fall, the shackle cut off his air, forcing him to stand up again. He cast his mind around desperately, trying to think about anything— _anything_ but the pain. He started to think about how he’d gotten here. There had been a zipline across a ravine. They’d been running from Galra soldiers. He’d sent all of the other paladins first. Then he’d gone.

The zipline had snapped. He’d leapt, using his jetpack, but it had failed. The momentum had pushed him forward… he’d slammed into the cliffside, grabbing wildly for Allura’s outstretched hand. He’d only missed her by a tiny amount, and then he’d been falling. Shots had forced the other paladins to back away, and he’d hit his head on a rock on the way down. Keith frowned. How had he gotten off of a fall like that with only a mild concussion? He should have broken every bone in his body when he’d hit the ravine floor!

The door to the cell opened, and the neck shackle clinked away. Keith fell in an undignified heap on the floor, gasping. A guard approached him.

“A paladin. I wasn’t expecting the ones who killed my brother to be so _pathetic_.” He accentuated his words with a kick to Keith’s ribs. “Haxus was better than this. How did something like _you_ kill him?!”

 _Oh. Sendak’s lieutenant. He had a brother_?

“You’ve killed too many.” The Galra kicked him again.

“Sh-shouldn’t terrorize innocent—innocent planets, then,” Keith managed to spit out.

The guard snarled and kicked Keith in the leg. Keith’s vision faded out, his leg like a small sun of blazing pain. When his vision reasserted itself, the guard had lifted him up by his collar, snarling in his face.

“I’m going to rip your stupid, smug face off!”

Keith drew his head back, then headbutted the Galra in the nose. He was dropped like a hot potato, and he crumbled to the floor again, breathing heavily while the guard howled. The guard kicked him in the side again, then again and again. Keith struggled for breath, curling into a ball to protect himself. The guard kicked him right in-between the shoulder blades, and Keith’s back arched with pain. The guard kicked him in the ribs again.

_Ow_

_Um._

_Okay._

_This—this is fine, I just have to_ —

Keith screamed as he was kicked again, struggling to breath, his ribcage feeling like a confining cage squeezing his ribs. The guard yanked him up by the collar, and his fist slammed into Keith’s mouth. Stars erupted in front of Keith’s vision, and coppery blood filled his mouth from his lip. The guard’s fist darted out again, and Keith’s right eye went dark. The grip on his collar tightened, and his already-tortured breathing got even harder.

“That’s enough.”

It was the female guard from before. Keith turned his head slightly to look at her. She didn’t seem sympathetic. Just carrying out orders.

“We want him alive.”

The guard pushed Keith into the shackles again. This time, Keith didn’t even try to stand. The collar cut off his breathing, but he didn’t care.

The female rolled her eyes, and pressed a button. The cuffs on Keith’s wrists locked to the wall and dragged him up, supporting him. Keith panted in air, his head sagging forward. The light shut off as the guards left and the door shut. He slumped forward, his breathing coming in fast pants that never seemed to get enough air in. He must have dozed off or passed out at some point, because his eyes snapped open when the door opened and light pressed against his eyelids. His head was throbbing, and everything on his face felt stiff, like it would never move again.

The female guard stepped in, unlocking him and throwing him over her shoulder. Keith gasped out as her bony shoulder pressed into his ribs. She shifted in response, which only made it worse. He was deposited unceremoniously at Zyrock’s feet. The Galra gave him a cold look.

“Is your lion coming?”

“N-no.”

Zyrock hauled him up, strapping him to the wall. “I’ve been looking at your other species’ torture methods, you know. For a primitive race, you sure do know how to make people hurt.”

A strap sprang out of the wall, pinning Keith’s forehead to the wall. Keith yanked against it, and it tightened in response. Another strap came out, lower down. It was the shape of his jaw. Keith spat out a curse.

“My, what a dirty mouth. Don’t worry; I’ll help you clean it out. Open up.”

Keith clamped his jaw shut. A scowl crossed Zyrock’s face.

“I _said_ , open _up_!”

He grasped Keith’s jaw and jerked it to the side. Keith’s world whited out, and somewhere through the throbbing mess that was his face, he felt Zyrock strap his jaw in place.

 _Coming_.

It wasn’t a word, so much of a feeling in the back of Keith’s mind. The black lion. It was coming for him.

 _No,_ he thought back weakly _, It’s a trap!_

 _Coming_.

Zyrock kicked him in the leg. “Is your lion coming?”

 _If he knows, he’ll catch Black. If I tell him, he’ll be ready_.

“Well?!”

 _It’ll stop if I tell. If I tell him that Black is coming, he’ll leave me alone_.

“Paladin! Is. Your. Lion. Coming?!”

_Tell._

_Don’t._

_Make the pain stop._

_Save Voltron_.

 _TELL_!

“Answer me. Is your lion coming?!”

Keith slumped as much as his bonds would allow, everything throbbing. “No.”

Xxx

The yellow lion tore through a sector of the Galra ship, and Pidge jumped out of its jaws, waving a thanks to Hunk and running through the halls.

“Cells, cells, cells… Where _are_ they?!”

Keith had insisted they go first.

Keith had missed Allura’s hand.

Pidge had yanked Allura back before she could jump after him, blocking shots with her shield.

Keith hitting his head on the way down.

Keith’s jetpack turning on at the last second, lowering him to the ground.

Keith spread-eagled on the ravine floor.

They’d had to run. They’d had no other choice. She’d had to tell herself that, over and over. They’d had to leave Keith behind. There wasn’t a way to save all of them, and Keith would have wanted for them to get out.

Pidge found a locked room and hacked the door, starting a data download while she was at it. The door hissed open, and Pidge shined her light into the dark space. She held back a scream and flew towards the opposite wall.

“Keith!”

There was a collar around his throat, and she severed it from the wall, catching him and lowering him gently to the floor. He moaned, blood trickling from a split in his lip.

“I got you, I got you.” Pidge swept her light over him, gulping. Broken leg. Okay. “Hunk? I’m going to need you. I don’t think Keith is going to be able to walk, and I can’t support him on my own.” His flight suit was tattered, and shallow cuts ran across his chest. “And, uh, there’s blood.”

Hunk was quiet for a moment. “Okay. Okay, I’m coming.”

“Are you going to be okay?”

“Y-yeah. I’ll be okay. Don’t worry about me.”

Pidge nodded. “Coran? Can you prep a pod?”

“Sure thing, number five.”

Pidge gulped, continuing her scan. Based on the rattling noise coming from him, his ribs were probably broken. Broken jaw. Pidge gently probed his swollen lip. Odd. The split wasn’t bleeding, but there was blood trickling from his mouth…

“Keith? Can you open your mouth for me?”

Keith shook his head, clamping his mouth shut, whining in pain.

“Okay, okay, okay, you don’t have to open your mouth, okay?” Pidge swept the light up further. One violet eye squinted in response to the light, swollen and bruised.

The other eye wasn’t there.

Pidge swore violently, her fingers gently pushing around Keith’s face, trying to scope the extent of the damage. Blood was trickling from long, crimson slashes down his face. Pidge frowned, comparing the spacing of the scratches on his face to the ones on his chest.

They were _claw marks_.

“The _bastards_! I’m going to rip _their_ eyes out!”

Keith whimpered, coughing and spitting out blood, and Pidge flinched, guiltily pulling her fingers away from the gashes. “Hey, I’ve got you. You’re going to be okay.” Her words sounded hollow, even to her. How was Keith going to be _okay_?! He was _missing_ an _eye_!

Pidge brushed his hair out of his face, wincing at how pale and gaunt he was. How long had it been since he’d eaten? The morning before the incident, so… four days ago?

Hunk came through the door, and his hands tightened on his bayard when he caught sight of Keith. “ _Stars_.”

“Yeah,” Pidge croaked, “I think—I don’t know. I think maybe a piggy-back is the best option. It—it probably won’t aggravate his ribs too much, and pretty much anything is going to upset his leg.” She touched Keith’s shoulder. “Hey—we’re going to get you out, okay? Can you hear me, Keith? Can you understand?”

He nodded, shivering, and Pidge helped load him onto Hunk. At first his head was upright, watching their surroundings change with dazed interest. Then he flopped on Hunk’s shoulder, eyes shut tightly. Crimson trickled down in contrast to Hunk’s white armor.

They reached the yellow lion, and Pidge took Keith as Hunk ran to the controls.

“Coran, we’re coming out. Lance, Allura, fall back. Wait for us to get out. Then blast this ship to smithereens.”

There were growls of assent, and the yellow lion pulled away. Pidge found a blanket and wrapped it around Keith’s shivering shoulders. “Hey… Here, let me see.” She turned his head gently, taking a good look at his ruined eye. Every lion had an emergency first aid kit, and she located Hunk’s, pulling out the cleaner and dabbing gently at the gashes around his eye. He whined, pulling away from her.

“Hey, Keith. Hey. I’m trying to help, okay?”

His good eye fixed on her, and she held out a hand.

“Okay?”

They came in for a landing, and he pitched forward. Pidge caught him. “Hunk! Little more gently?!”

“Sorry!”

Coran came rushing on board with a gurney.

Pidge patted Keith on the shoulder gingerly. “Keith, we’re going to get you in a pod, okay? Come on, I’ve got you. Gurney’s better than piggyback on Hunk, eh?”

She helped him on, and he yelped as his broken leg was jostled around. Coran rushed to the infirmary, and due to her short legs, Pidge was left behind quickly. Hunk came out next to her.

“Is he going to be okay?”

Pidge took in a shaky breath. “I think so. He didn’t seem… I don’t know. He seemed fairly conscious.”

Hunk nodded, silent. They stood for a few minutes in the hallway, and then Allura and Lance were rushing in.

“Is he okay?!”

Pidge gulped, and then started crying. Hunk wrapped her up in a hug immediately, and Lance and Allura joined in after only a moment.

“’s my fault!” Pidge wailed, “I made us run—and then we wasted time tracking down his armor—and the whole time—he—he—and we only found him because the black lion went after him, and—”

“Pidge,” Allura said quietly, “Pidge. Pidge! It’s not your fault. We didn’t have a leader. We were disorganized. You got as many of us out as you could. So…” Her big blue eyes filled with tears. “Do you mean that he’s…”

“No—no, Keith’s—he’s going to be okay. I just…” Pidge gulped again. “He lost an eye.”

Lance’s face went ugly. “I’m going to _kill_ that commander.”

Allura got a hard kind of smile on her face. “Too late. The vacuum of space did it for you.”

“I don’t care. Let’s go back and kill him again.”

“Keith first,” Allura asserted, “ _Then_ we hunt down survivors.”

They strode down the halls towards the infirmary, tripping over one another to be first in the door. Keith was already in the pod, and the surface was frosted over so they couldn’t see inside. Coran was studying a diagram of Keith’s injuries, tugging his moustache thoughtfully. Pidge took a look at the diagram herself. The diagram highlighted in red any injuries, from minor bruises and scrapes to internal bleeding. Touching a red spot would give you details about the injury.

Almost the whole diagram was red.

Coran nodded thoughtfully. “He was very lucky.”

Pidge blinked. “ _Lucky_?!” she asked incredulously, “What about this do you think is _lucky_?!” She swept an arm to encompass the diagram and the pod.

Coran shook his head. “No, no, no, Pidge, you see, he was injured, but there’s something interesting about all of his injuries: none of them were life-threatening. Even all together, none of this would have killed him. The cuts didn’t bleed that much. The broken leg, while painful and prohibiting escape, is not life-threatening. The eye was risky, but not enough to truly put Keith’s life in danger. He had more of a chance of dying by choking on his own blood than he did from any injuries actually done to his mouth. These injuries were designed to put him in a lot of pain, but not kill him.”

“And I suppose we should be grateful for that?!” Pidge yelled.

“Yes,” Coran said simply. “We can heal injuries. Death isn’t something we can fix.”

Pidge slumped, all of the fight gone from her. “Is he going to be okay?”

“He’s missing an eye,” Coran said bluntly, “And… well, he’ll survive. But… I wouldn’t count on everything being the same as it used to be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *humming gently* Mama mia… here we go again.


	3. Chapter 3

“Pidge? Are you going to be in here long?”

Pidge nodded, sitting with her back against a healing pod (not Keith’s). “Someone should be here when he wakes up.

Lance nodded, sitting down next to her. “You guys were all here when I came out. Where did everyone else go?”

Pidge stretched. “Hunk went to go make food. He figures Keith will be hungry when he wakes up. Allura and Coran had to go check on some Castle thing.”

“And what are _you_ doing?”

“Looking through all of the data from that ship.”

“What are you looking for?”

“The video logs,” Pidge replied quietly, looking up at the serenely-floating Keith, “I want to know…”

Lance gulped. “Yeah. Okay. Got it.”

“What are _you_ doing in here?”

Lance shrugged. “Same as you, I guess. Waiting for Keith to wake up. Busy being bored out of my skull. Hey, was it this boring when you guys were waiting for _me_?”

Pidge managed a laugh. “No. We had the great time race.”

“Oh, yeah. Your weird little clock party.” Lance got up and stretched, walking around the room in that weird, loping gait of his. He tapped on the glass of the cyro pod. “Does this thing have, like a timer? Like a microwave or something?”

Pidge looked up from her computer. “Don’t touch it, Lance.”

“Don’t touch it Lance,” he mimicked, but backed away, looking the pod up and down. “You know… it’s kind of weird.”

“Mm?”

“Seeing him floating there. Like… it’s really… surreal, I guess. I think it’s the color.”

“Mhm.”

“And, like, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so peaceful, you know? Because most of the time, he’s a little twitching ball of anger. But he’s just kind of… there, right now.”

“Mmm.”

“Was it weird when _I_ was in there?”

Pidge finally looked up from all of the coding on her computer. “Yes. Because for once, you weren’t talking. It was actually kind of nice.”

He stuck his tongue out, then started pacing. “Stars, I think if I’d been waiting for me to get out of that pod, I would have gone stark raving mad.”

“Lance?”

“Yeeeeees?”

“You’re driving _me_ stark raving mad.”

“Okay, okay. Whatever.”

“Why don’t you go get a blanket, or Keith’s jacket or something? He’ll be cold when he gets out.”

“What if he comes out while I’m gone? If he falls, he’ll crush you, you’re so small—”

“Go!”

“Okeydokey, I’m going. Gone.”

Lance left, and Pidge was left alone with the pod. Once Lance’s constant chattering faded to silence, Pidge shivered. It was kind of creepy in here. And Lance was right; Keith really _did_ look surreal, floating in the green-blue light that made his pale skin look sickly. He did look kind of peaceful, but it was… _wrong_. Maybe it was the still-healing gashes and the scar tissue slowly creeping over them. Maybe it was the leg that was straightening itself out as she watched. Maybe it was the hollow space where his eye had been.

Pidge pulled up the diagnostics scan. The red was slowly fading from Keith’s diagram, but there was a permanent red spot over his right eye, which would never grow back. A tap on the eye of the diagram confirmed that thought—the healing pod couldn’t regrow an eye. Pidge pulled up Shiro’s last scan. His whole right arm was bathed in red, because it was gone. She nodded to herself and studied Keith’s diagram again. There was a fiercely-glowing red spot near his mouth, and Pidge remembered the blood that had been trickling out of Keith’s mouth.

“What happened to you?” she murmured, reaching towards the red area. Her heart beat loudly in her ears, like she was prying somewhere she shouldn’t.

There was a beeping noise, and Pidge flailed, dismissing the diagrams and falling backwards. It was the pod. Behind her, the door hissed open.

“Oh, weird,” Lance said cheerfully, “Do you think that means he’s almost done?” He dumped a blanket on the floor and strode to the pod, tapping on the surface. “Hello? Are you finished?”

The pod didn’t open, and Lance sighed.

“ _Stars_ , he’s taking _forever_. I was in a _coma_ and it didn’t take this long.”

Lance started pacing again. Pidge watched the pod, her heart thumping wildly. She slowly clambered to her feet.

“Keith?”

The pod hissed open, and Keith opened his eyes. Well. He opened his _eye_. He staggered forward, blinking in the light. And. Oh!

Pidge lunged forward to catch him as he fell. Lance was right. Keith nearly _did_ crush her, his weight nearly dragging her to the floor. Lance loped over and pulled Keith up.

“Whoa, careful, mullet, we need her.”

“I bet your depth perception is off,” Pidge said quietly, guiding Keith into a sitting position, “With only one eye…”

Keith’s hand flew up to his empty eye socket, feeling the new scars. The door hissed open.

“Ah, don’t touch that.” It was Coran, and he crossed the room quickly, gently moving Keith’s hand away, “The gashes are healed, but the socket isn’t quite safe. I wouldn’t go poking your fingers about in the hole.” He made a shooing motion with his hand. “Pidge, Lance, I need to speak to Keith alone.”

Pidge draped the blanket Lance had brought around Keith’s shivering shoulders. “Why do we have to leave?”

“Doctor-patient confidentiality. Please.”

Lance and Pidge glanced at each other and then left without another word. Pidge stopped right outside the door, sitting down with a _whump_. Lance slid down the wall next to her.

“Hey.”

Pidge sighed. “Lance… his eye…”

Lance tried for a smile. “Hey, now. He looks like a scary pirate, now. I bet he loves it.”

Pidge sniffed, smiling back. “Yeah. Yeah, I bet he does. We can get him a skull-and-crossbones eye patch.”

The corners of Lance’s mouth twitched. “Yeah. And a hat with a fluffy feather.”

Pidge snorted a laugh.

“What? It’ll go really well with his sword.”

Pidge gave another snort before quieting down. “Lance?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think he’s gonna be okay?”

Lance’s jaw clenched. “He’d better be. I don’t have any plans for being the black paladin anytime soon.”

“Okay, but… it’s just… his eye…”

“Can you and Hunk… I don’t know, maybe make him a mechanical eye? Sendak had one. Maybe the two of you could do something similar?”

Pidge nodded thoughtfully. “I might… it’s an idea, anyway. I’d have to see his eye better. I haven’t been able to get a close enough look to say for sure.”

The door hissed open, and they scrambled to their feet. Coran and Keith were standing there, Keith back in his street clothes. Coran had put a gauze patch over Keith’s eye, secured with medical tape that attached just above his eyebrow and just below the socket. Keith looked… small. And vulnerable, which wasn’t a word that Pidge typically associated with him.

“Hunk made you food,” she offered hesitantly, “Do you want to go eat something?”

Keith’s tired gaze brightened, and he nodded, taking a quick glance at Coran for confirmation. The Altean made a shooing motion, and Keith followed them down the hallway towards the kitchen, Lance chattering enough for all three of them.

“I bet you’re wondering how we found you, huh? Well, they sent us off on a wild goose chase, and when we caught up to your armor, we saw just a shuttle with the armor and your bayard in it, so we weren’t sure what to do next, and then the black lion started going _berserk_ in its hangar, so we let it out, and then we followed it, and we found the ship! So Allura and I attacked it, and Hunk got Pidge in and then they rescued you, and we blew up the ship and it was _awesome_. Allura and I tracked down the survivors. They’re locked up in the containment pods.” Lance took a deep breath. “Anyway. So. You’re back.”

Keith nodded.

“Why so quiet?”

Keith didn’t have to answer, because Allura was sprinting down the hallway and giving him a hug.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry that I didn’t catch you, I—”

Keith patted her back awkwardly. He gave Pidge a ‘help’ face, and Pidge tugged on the princess’s arm.

“Hey. We’re getting Keith to the kitchen so he can get something to eat.”

Allura pulled back. “Oh! I’m so sorry! You must be _starving_ , and I’m holding you up!”

Keith shrugged and followed them into the kitchen. Hunk was stress-cooking, and he already had a full meal, with steaming meat, vegetables and what looked like mashed potatoes. Keith’s eyes lit up like the fourth of July, but he glanced at Hunk first.

“It’s for you,” Hunk promised, “Go ahead.”

Keith shot forward, chowing down on the meat. Then he stopped. Tears filled his eye, and he buried his head in his arms, pushing the plate away. Hunk frowned, eyebrows scrunched up in confusion.

“Keith? Are you okay? Is something wrong with the food? I was trying something new, it might not have—”

Keith shook his head, keeping his face hidden. Pidge sat on a stool next to him, touching his arm.

“Keith?”

“Can you tell us what’s wrong?” Hunk pushed.

Keith shook his head, shoulders shaking. He looked up, one hand over his mouth.

Pidge remembered the blood dripping from his mouth. “Keith? Can I see your mouth?”

Keith removed his hand slowly.

“Can you open your mouth, please?”

Keith’s jaw clenched tight.

“Keith, we’re not going to hurt you,” Lance promised, “We’re trying to help.”

Keith eyed him distrustfully.

“Keith, I’m your right-hand man. Shiro would have trusted _you_. Can _you_ trust _me_?”

At the mention of Shiro’s name, Keith’s spine stiffened. He looked at Lance. Then he looked at the other paladins. And he opened his mouth. Pidge’s eyes widened. He had teeth missing, dark, gaping holes where his molars and one of his front teeth should have been. Pidge told herself that it would be okay, they could make replacement teeth.

“By the ancients,” Allura breathed, “He’s missing his tongue!”

Pidge’s attention snapped to Keith’s tongue. Allura was right! His tongue had been cut away! Keith snapped his mouth shut, burying his head in his arms again.

“The _bastards_ ,” Allura snarled, “They—they—”

“They’ve taken out our leader,” Lance said in a stunned voice.

Pidge realized with a sinking feeling that Lance was right. Keith couldn’t give them orders, not without any way to speak. Even if they all learned sign language (which she doubted Lance had the patience to learn), they couldn’t watch a battle _and_ Keith’s hands.

Hunk came around the table and gave Keith a hug. “It’ll be okay.”

Keith slammed the palm of his hand down on the table in a clear ‘no, it won’t,’ and pushed away from the table, stalking away. The door hissed shut behind him.

“He needs to eat,” Hunk said to no one in particular, “He hasn’t in a while.”

“I’ll send up food later,” Allura promised, “He should be able to eat goo.”

Lance shook his head, dropping into Keith’s abandoned seat. “Four days,” he said hoarsely, “Four days was all it took. We got Keith back. But we didn’t get the black paladin.”

Allura sat down next to him, taking off her circlet and rubbing her temples. “Now what? Do we have to find a new black paladin?”

Pidge shook her head. “We can’t. Even if we wanted to—which _I_ , for one, do not—we couldn’t. Keith’s still the black paladin.”

Allura frowned. “What do you mean?”

Pidge shook her head. “Keith had been in the cell for at _least_ half an hour before I got there.”

“And?”

“The lion was attacking the ship, Allura. _After_ his tongue was cut off. Keith’s still the black paladin.”

“What are we supposed to do?! How are we supposed to communicate?!”

“Sign language?” Lance offered tentatively.

Pidge shook her head. “Won’t work. He needs his hands to fly the lion, and we can’t fight _and_ watch him.” She sighed. “We’ll figure it out. I’m going to go find him.”

Lance followed after her loyally. “He seemed pretty upset. I mean, I would be, too. That’s… a big thing. Do you think that you and Hunk can… I don’t know. I mean, there are prosthetic limbs, and you said maybe you could make him a new eye, but, like, could you do that for his tongue?”

Pidge shook her head. “I don’t know. The tongue is different from an eye. Cameras were based off of eyes, so I can just kind of make a camera and attach it to his brain, to put it in simple terms. But… there’s nothing like that for the tongue. We can replace the teeth, easy, but the tongue… I don’t know. We might have to come up with another way. She ducked into her room for a moment to grab her computer and then knocked on Keith’s room door. “Keith? Are you in here?”

The door opened, and Pidge edged in, glancing around. Keith looked up at her from the bed, inclining his head slightly in a hello.

“Hey. We’re… We’re going to fix this, okay? We’re going to figure this out. But for now…” Pidge opened up Microsoft Word and held the computer out to Keith. “Here. You can type things you want to say.”

Keith hesitated, looking at her and the computer. She shook it slightly.

“Come on, take it.”

He reached out and took it, typing _Are you sure_?

“Yeah, of course. We’ll figure out a more handheld option, but this’ll work for now.”

 _What if you need it_?

“Keith, you need it more than I do. Just take it. And don’t touch any of my tabs.”

Keith nodded. _Thank you_.

“We should all learn sign language,” Lance suggested again.

“Lance, it won’t work when we’re in battle!”

“I know, Pidge, but just for everyday life. You know. So Keith isn’t constantly typing whenever he wants to say something. How’s that sound, Keith?”

Keith hesitated, then typed _seems like a lot of work for everyone_.

Lance shrugged. “Eh. We should learn at least a little anyway for stealth missions where we need to be quiet and not talk.”

 _You don’t have to do this for me. Really_.

Pidge rolled her eyes. “Shut up, moron. We’re a team. Besides, you made sure that the rest of us got across at your own expense. Even if we didn’t _want_ to help you—which we do—we would be _obligated_ to help you.”

“What Pidge is _trying_ to say, in her usual, gentle way,” Lance interjected, “Is that we’re going to help you. And we _want_ to help you.” He grinned and slung an arm around Keith’s shoulders, almost immediately being pushed off by a glaring Keith. “Just you wait. Between Pidge and Hunk, you’re going to be right back up to normal in no time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going to be taking off of writing for the holidays in the next few weeks, so if there isn't a chapter by Friday, I won't be posting until next year. Merry Christmas, guys!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I return from the dead!

Pidge tapped on a thick glass wall. “Ready?” she yelled.

Keith nodded and gave her a thumbs up. Pidge hit a button, and a green light filled the room. _Scanning_.

The pods gave her an approximate scan of damage, of course, but Pidge needed a more detailed report that focused more specifically on the injuries she wanted and not Keith’s overall condition.

 _Scan complete_.

Pidge gave Keith a thumbs up. “Clear!” she yelled. He left to change out of the hospital linens the scan required him to wear, and Pidge hummed to herself as she enlarged the hologram of his head, zooming in more specifically to his eye. Hunk was already trying to figure out how exactly they were going to get fake teeth to work, but Lance was watching her, his chin plopped on the top of her head.

 _Optic nerve damage_.

“Ooo, what does _that_ mean?”

Pidge growled to herself, reading the details before shutting the scan. “ _Quiznek_!”

Keith seemingly appeared behind her.

 _What_?

Pidge’s fingers tapped the metal desk in front of her, full of angry energy. “The bastard’s claws went deep enough to damage your optic nerve, the sends signals from your eyes to your brain. The end is frayed, damaged beyond repair.”

Lance frowned. “So…”

“So, we can’t attach any optobionics to it.”

“Dumb it down, please. Keith and I aren’t rocket scientists.”

Pidge took a deep breath, telling herself that Lance was _trying_ to be helpful. “I can’t attach a robotic eyeball to it. It won’t send anything to the brain, because it’s damaged too badly.”

“Oh. Can’t we just… okay, I know you said ‘damaged beyond repair’ but, like, impossible is our specialty, so any possibility we can fix it? Like… I don’t know, get some from somewhere else? Get a new one?”

Pidge stared at him. “Lance, the optic nerve is _tiny_!”

“So find a big animal with lots of space between its eyes and brain!”

“Lance, this isn’t Doctor Who! I can’t just take out something’s optic nerve and stick it in Keith’s eye socket! You’re talking about a surgery that hasn’t even been attempted by the _Alteans_!”

Lance went quiet, frowning slightly. Pidge knew that look. That was him thinking, never a good sign.

“Lance?” she pushed gently, “Whatcha thinking?”

“I’m thinking that the _Galra_ have tried it.”

“What?”

“Sendak’s eye! They must have figured out a way to replace the optic nerve!”

Pidge frowned, possibilities firing in her head, lightning fast, some discarded, some going further. “We don’t know that for sure,” she cautioned, “His eye might have been pulled out carefully by the druids—it might not have taken damage the way Keith’s did.”

“Well, we can find out! We can just plug into Sendak’s memories, figure it out!”

Pidge warmed to the idea almost immediately. “Yeah! It’s about time he started helping out, as creepy as his memories are, floating in there!”

Keith pounded the table to get their attention, and then turned Pidge’s laptop to face them.

 _No. No one is getting into Sendak’s memories_.

Lance blew a raspberry. “Why _not_? We went through all of the trouble of _getting_ them, we might as well _use_ them!”

Keith hesitated, his fingers hovering over the laptop keys. Then he started to type again. _It’s too dangerous. Last time we tried, the Castle went on the fritz and nearly launched us into the **sun**! And that was when **Alfor** was in charge! Can you imagine how bad it could get if Sendak’s memories got loose in the Castle_?!

Lance shivered. “He _does_ have a point, unfortunately. What do we do, then?”

“The Galra prisoners,” Pidge said slowly.

Keith frowned. _The what now_?

Lance crowed. “The prisoners! Yes! Bet they know!”

“After Lance and Allura destroyed the ship that held you hostage, they took prisoners,” Pidge explained, “They rescued some of the Galra from the vacuum of space. They’re in a containment pod right now, because, well, we’ve never taken prisoners before. We didn’t know what to do with them.”

“Interrogation time!” Lance whooped.

“We’re bringing Allura,” Pidge cautioned him.

“What? How come? Not that I mind her coming along,” he said quickly, glancing around like the princess might be listening in, “But do you have a specific plan?”

“She’s scarier than you are,” Pidge said simply, tapping her helmet. “Allura?”

“Yes, Pidge?”

“Can you meet us at the containment pod?”

“Of course.”

Pidge kept glancing behind her to make sure that Keith was following. He’d been like a ghost since he’d returned, drifting around without any purpose. She shuddered. Keith not being able to talk was… spooky. Wrong. It was like seeing him in the pod, floating peacefully. It just wasn’t right—it wasn’t natural.

They arrived at the containment pods, where Allura was waiting. “What’s this about?”

Pidge waved a hand vaguely. “A thing. We need to ask them some questions, and you’re pretty intimidating to have standing around.” She pushed open the door. “Okay, losers, I’ve got some questions, and you’re going to answer them!”

One of the Galra in the containment pod laughed. “We won’t betray our empire.” She nodded to Keith with an amused grin. “Black paladin. Are you still in love with me?”

Keith rolled his eye.

“Not so silver-tongued now, are you?”

Pidge glanced at Keith. “Um…”

He typed with one hand, the other supporting the laptop. _Long story. I was messing around, acting like a moron to try and buy some time. And also just not give the commander what he wanted_.

“Beside the point!” Lance said, clapping his hands once to get everyone else’s attention.

Pidge snapped her attention away from Keith. “Right. Robotic eyes. I’ve seen a few of you Galra with them.”

The female soldier blinked in surprise. “You want to know about our prosthetics? Hardly a _huge_ surprise—they’re very useful. But the eyes…” her glowing eyes slid over and fixed on Keith, a grin making its way onto her face. “Oh, I see. You want to make your debilitated black paladin back into a leader. Well, then. I can tell you that it won’t happen. Those eyes are specifically for _Galra_. I don’t think they’d work well in a human.”

“What about a half-Galra?” Pidge slid in, raising one eyebrow.

The woman heaved a long-suffering sigh. “I don’t know. I can’t say it’s been tried. Give up, green paladin. Just admit defeat—we’ve beaten you. We’ve taken your black paladin— _two_ of them.”

Keith’s fist slammed into the glass of the containment pod. The fury on his face gave a clear message. _Shut up_.

The Galra didn’t flinch. She stared him right in the eye, inches from the glass. “Aw, I’m sorry, black paladin. Did I upset you? Why don’t you run along and play something other than paladin? Maybe the Blades will take you in—or maybe our stand-in-leader, Lotor. I hear he has a soft spot for half-breeds, and rumor has it that one of his own can’t talk either.”

Keith growled, whirled around, and left. Pidge glared at the Galra. “Keith’s not out of the fight yet. You underestimate us.”

Then _she_ whirled around, heading for the training deck, one of Keith’s favorite places. Keith wasn’t there, though. Only Coran was, playing with the mind meld crowns.

“Ah, number five! I appear to be having a spot of difficulty with this crown! It isn’t working at all! I think of sandwiches, and it projects an angry clanmural!”

“Maybe it’s your stomach growling,” Pidge suggested, taking one of the crowns. Then it hit her. “Coran…”

“Yes, number five?”

“These crowns… they show you what’s in your mind, right? What you’re thinking about?”

“Yes.”

“Okay! Brilliant!” Pidge snatched up one of the crowns, running back towards her room.

“Hey! Pidge! Where do you think you’re going with that?!”

“To get Keith a voice!” Pidge called back.


End file.
